


Spring Cleaning

by SML8180



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dark has a lot of secrets, How Do I Tag, Memories, Post-Who Killed Markiplier?, Post-Wilford 'MOTHERLOVING' Warfstache, Secrets, This was more feels-y than I expected, the other egos have no idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 10:17:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21492706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SML8180/pseuds/SML8180
Summary: The egos are doing some spring cleaning around the manor. Bim and Google are working in the attic, when they find a trunk full of old clothes. Dark comes up and shoo's them away, going through the items himself, wanting to keep any potential questions they might come up with concerning the articles at bay.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	Spring Cleaning

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt-based story from my prompt notebook.
> 
> The prompt: A forgotten object is found in an attic during spring cleaning

It was time again for spring cleaning around the Iplier Ego household. Everyone was up to something, whether it was cleaning their room or office, or helping one another to clean up the common areas of the house. Google was up in the attic with Bim, doing what he could to reorganize the shelves so that they could all put away most of their winter belongings, while also trying to remind Bim from time to time to focus on what they were supposed to be doing, as he kept getting distracted.

Bim knelt down by a trunk, unhooking the latches to look inside. Usually, the old thing was ignored, seeing as nobody ever said anything about it. But, with the reorganization going on, he and Google would have to move it, so Google had instructed him to look through its contents to see if there was anything that might get broken, or that they should just get rid of. The hinges of the trunk’s lid protested against the ego moving them, giving off a shrill squeak. Inside, he found that the contents were covered by a grey sheet. Pulling the sheet aside, he found a number of objects and articles of clothing that were anything but familiar to him.

“Hey, Blue? Any idea what to make of this?” Bim called out over his shoulder.

Google looked towards the game show host and stood, making his way over. He knelt down beside Bim and looked into the trunk, himself. “I don’t recognize any of this,” he stated, picking up what looked to be a red satin dressing gown.

“Me neither,” Bim mused. He pulled a tan pith helmet from the trunk and put it on, chuckling a bit. “What d’you think? I look ready to go on safari?” he joked, looking over at the android beside him.

“Take that off, you don’t know who it belongs to,” Google dismissed, setting the satin garment in his hands aside.

Bim removed the helmet with a shrug, setting it out of the way. The pair continued to look through the trunk, finding an assortment of clothing and objects likely long forgotten. There was a black cap with a small veil and pink silk rose, a tan coat that clearly went with the helmet, adorned with a couple of red service bars and a medal, a set of pink bell-bottom pants and pink afro-style wig, a black deerstalker cap, a groundskeeper’s hat and a chef’s ladle, a black ribbon with the word “Mayor” in flowing script, and a black cane with a silver tip and ornate silver topper.

“Most of this stuff looks pretty old,” Bim suggested. “Maybe we should ask Dark about it? Maybe he’ll know where it all came from.”

“Where what came from?” came a voice from the attic steps behind the pair. They turned to see Dark standing there, his hands clasped behind his back. He didn’t have his suit jacket on, and had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, with no tie to be found and the first couple of buttons of his shirt undone.

“We were going through stuff, and found this old trunk,” Bim told him. “We opened it up, and there’s a ton of old clothes inside.”

Dark made his way over, kneeling between his fellow egos. He picked up the veiled black cap, carefully running his grey fingers over it. Everything was quiet as Bim and Google watched Dark; he set down the cap, and looked at other items that had been set aside, the pith helmet and tan jacket, the satin dressing gown. After several long moments of the three egos refusing to speak, Dark finally said something.

“You two go see if anyone else needs help,” he told them. “I’ll take care of things up here.”

The two other men knew better than to question Dark. He wasn’t someone you wanted to upset. So, they both stood, quietly shrugging to one another before leaving down the attic steps. Soon, Dark was left alone, kneeling by the trunk of old clothes and small belongings.

“It’s been so long…” he whispered, picking up the tan helmet and running his hand over it. “How long has it really been?” Dark sighed quietly, setting the helmet on top of the jacket that went with it. He carefully pulled each item out of the trunk, holding them in his hands for a short time, his usual aura turning the objects to grayscale before he set them back into the trunk.

Eventually, Dark stood, going a few steps and grabbing an empty box. He returned to the trunk, kneeling once again, not caring about the dust getting all over the knees and shins of his black trousers. The ego used a sharpie to write the word “Memories” on the box, and set it on the floor beside him. He went through the items in the trunk slowly, holding each one as old memories bubbled up to the surface.

Dark slowly went through the objects in the trunk again. He folded the dressing gown into a small bundle, using the belt from it to make it keep its shape, and set it into the bottom of the box. The ego set the deerstalker into the box, next. He set the chef’s ladle and groundskeeper’s hat aside; those could be sold at the coming yard sale; they held no strong memories, anymore. Then, he got to the things that really mattered to him. He folded the tan jacket carefully, and set it inside the pith helmet, before setting both into the box beside him. The grey ego gave a wistful chuckle at the bell-bottoms and wig, folding the pants up and tucking them into the wig, before they found a place in the box of memories. Next up was the veiled black cap; he ran his fingers over it.

“I almost forgot this was up here,” he mumbled. He set the cap into the box carefully, as if it would break if he was too rough with it. Dark picked up the Mayor ribbon, and felt a pang in his chest; he dipped his hand back into the trunk, shutting his eyes and carding a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. After a moment, he put the ribbon into the box, and picked up the final thing left in the trunk; the black and silver cane. He held it in his hands, a thumb smoothing over the surface. Had this been years and years ago, he would have been fidgeting with the cane, turning it in his hands, or running his thumb over the ornate topper. The silver top of the cane drew his attention; it was clear that it was once cared for and shiny, but now, after years of being stored away, it was dull and tarnished.

“I’ll have to clean this up,” Dark mused. He set the cane aside, closing the trunk at last. The ego went about finishing up in the attic, seeing as there wasn’t much left to do. Once everything was finished, the man closed up the box and picked it up, along with the cane, and made his way down the steps. He set his things down, closed up the attic, and picked up the box and cane once again, making his way towards his room.

Dark set the box on his dresser, pulling the pink wig and pants from inside. He wrote up a short note, and went down the hall to Wilford’s room. When his knock on the door went unanswered, Dark simply let himself in. The pink and yellow color scheme of the room was a stark contrast to his own, but he had no say in what Wil did with his own room. He simply set the pants, wig, and note down on the candy-patterned bedspread and left, shutting the door behind him.

Later that night, Dark was in his office, a smooth jazz record playing quietly to fill the silence. The box from earlier was tucked into the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet, locked away, while the cane was in his hands. He was carefully cleaning the topper of the cane, making it shine like it used to. The light glinted off the newly cleaned surface, as he buffed away the final traces of the cleaner he had used. The ego stood, setting the cleaning cloth on his desk before taking a step away from it. He let the silver tip of the cane on the floor, taking a couple of steps towards the mirror he had hanging on the wall, the cane swinging a bit by his side in his hand as he went. Dark stood in front of the mirror, looking at himself as he planted the end of the cane on the floor between his feet, letting his hands rest on the top of it.

“You never know what you’ll find when you do a bit of spring cleaning,” he mused, speaking to nobody in particular. He wouldn’t tell the others about what had been found, at least, he wouldn’t tell them the truth. The history of the items that had been found didn’t matter to them, it didn’t affect them. Even Wilford didn’t need to know everything that had been found. Things had changed, after all, just as the seasons had.


End file.
